


Never Turn Your Back

by Brice_Gottlieb



Category: Original Work, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Brief Mentions of Canon Freelancers, May Be Expanded on in Later Works, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3735145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brice_Gottlieb/pseuds/Brice_Gottlieb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were originally 50 of us. Every State represented. Tallied. Scored. </p><p>Wherever I was, so was Kentucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Turn Your Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadKingV3rn0n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadKingV3rn0n/gifts).



> χι is pronounced as Ki and ρώ is pronounced Rhō.
> 
> They are Alpha's Happiness/Determination and Love/Sentimentality, respectively.

It's all too suddenly I realize this moment in time may never happen again.

 

 

 

It's Spring and we're alone at the bistro. It sounds too pretentious, but what else do you call a place that only sells soups, sandwiches, and teas? The metalwork table is rickety and a breeze carries the dying breath of Winter. She wears those cargo shorts. I still haven't shaken the comfort of a coat. Finally in town again and we've met for brunch, as is custom. The waitress still remembers our orders, no matter how long it's been since we've visited last. She gets her black coffee promptly and I begin to talk. Every word makes an hour fly by and suddenly brunch is being taken at twilight while the waitress packs in the last of the patio furniture. There's talk of a war coming.

 

It's Summer and those cargo shorts have gone nowhere, but we have. I've been drafted. We spend the weekend in a land we know best. Video games blink by on the television, interspersed by conversation and confession. I cry once or twelve times. She craves black coffee in the dead of night. We can't get the routine out of our head and she drives us to the bistro. It's long past closing time, but we can grab fast food and hop the patio fence. No doubt the tiles will be cold. I muddle through the hours.

 

It's Autumn and I'm bandaging my hand. It never healed right and the skin is mismatched. A busted knuckle doesn't help my training. Nor does late mail. She hasn't written at all this month. Blaming my finger, I wrap tighter. 

 

It's Winter and I'm close to cracking. Two more months and I can apply to Project Freelancer. It's dangerous, but it's hardly the frontline. Better to test some dodgy equipment than take a shotgun to the face. I struggle. They push. I beg. They push. I could have made it with enough hard work.

 

 

 

Then she arrives.

 

 

 

It's Spring and she ran to the nearest recruiting office when she got my letter in Autumn. I remember her. She remembers me. The routine falls in place, but the location is different. She never did pack those shorts. My only hoodie is regulation issued. We both miss the video games. Two weeks with her and I'm shipped out in March.

 

It's Summer and I'm alone again. I have a new name and my face, like most of myself, is hidden. The helmet is sage in color. Vert. Finding it amusing, I remember The Green Mountains I'm newly christened for. I am not me, not to them. Not to The Director. I am Agent Vermont. My helmet is sage and I'm far too alone in this room. 

 

It's Autumn and I can't see. 

 

It's Winter and I can't move. 

 

 

 

She never did arrive.

 

 

 

It's Spring and the last of my augments are in place. The pain is chronic. There is talk of me in the line up. Agent Hampshire never comes to terms with my arrival. I threaten his existence with my skill in stealth. I am not me, not to them. I am not the same. They run tests on me. I detach and think of a bistro. We laughed once, didn't we? Laughing, laughing, laughing, and we were brilliant. They run scans on my brains. I dream of gray ooze and they suggest implanting a voice. Willing, I lift my arm for the injections and they set the vein on fire. I burn brightly. It really isn't such a bad way to go...

 

It's Summer and Hampshire has gone missing. No one speaks of it. They don't look for him. Sometimes I dream of gray ooze, but more often I dream of Hampshire. 

 

It's Autumn and they make me choose from a list. Pick one, they say, which do you miss most? I choose Happiness and the attending nurse lets out a chuckle. If I could, I would feel ashamed. The fire in my veins keeps the humanity at bay. I watch them inject me again.

 

It's Winter and...I forget.

 

 

 

Where is she?

 

 

 

It's Summer. Her name is χι, but she's not you. They stop injecting me, but I never do warm up. Remember when it only took a mug of black coffee to make things alright? I have to record all that χι says. She's not you. They remind me. She reminds me. No one talks about Hampshire and they never went looking for him. I stop dreaming about the gray ooze, but never him. But never him.

 

It's Autumn and I rise with dawn to pull my clothes on and smother a smile. I dreamed of Earth. For once in a long while, I remember emotion. With it, anxiety.

 

It's Winter and she's not you, but we're freezing. My, how the time flies. I'm older. I always was compared to you, but this age and these augments have made me grow colder. We had it all wrong. I hear it in my head. We had it all wrong and I hear laughter. Laughing, laughing, laughing and it's brilliant. And it's you.

 

 

 

I look up and it's you.

 

 

 

It's Spring and you've come to join me. You are not you anymore, not to them. Not to The Director. You are Agent Kentucky, your armor as deep a maroon as the state's bird. I introduce the voice I've been toting around and you chuckle. Privately, I worry for you. Publicly, I announce there isn't much as far as coffee goes.

 

It's Summer and I watch you burn. They wasted no time getting you on the table and turning you to embers. I spend the time to ease you through it, at least as much as I can. χι tells me how. I learn through her. The determination is our binding code. It won't be long before you have a little voice of your own. I voice as such, but it does little to ease your anguish. God help us all, you're burning to death, but I know it's not a bad way to go...

 

It's Autumn and my first mission has me killing Covenant foes. Agent Carolina leads the pack, but it's hardly a reassurance. My battle is hard fought and even harder won. They test us with these enemies. Agent California brings down his enemies cleanly. Agent Washington has no troubles. χι is pointing out the weaknesses of my foes and myself. I tuck behind walls, I strike while χι keeps my perimeter in check. I'd never felt so powerful. Agent Nevada holds back from the fray. She cowers and I suddenly see the faces of my enemies clearly. War is simply a test of those whose cause has more firepower. I've been cutting down no more than myself.

 

It's Winter and Agent Nevada has gone missing. They look for her, though. Agent Washington says she ran away. They look for her, but they never find her. At night, χι whispers that this is for the best. I remember the feeling of happiness and dream of Hampshire.

 

 

 

You took a step today.

 

 

 

It's Spring and she's called ρώ. You claim to have chosen Love. I become envious, then ashamed. Part of me wishes I had chosen the same, but the other whispers that I'd never been loved in the first place. How can one miss what one never had? I thought all this, but felt as if χι had implanted it in my mind. 

 

It's Summer and you confess that the coffee is shit. I remark about Nevada, but you'd never met her. I remark about Hampshire, but you'd never met him. Chuckling, I admit I was getting ahead of myself. I never dream of Hampshire after that. 

 

It's Autumn. With enough trading of personal possessions and rations, I manage to recreate those shorts of yours. I have a hoodie to match, although it lacks a zipper and your shorts, a button. They're a size too big on you, a size too small on me, and the hoodie is enough to swamp us both. We are laughing, laughing, laughing, and we wear the clothing anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

It's Winter and you brush by me. I'm exhausted from morning drills, χι at my shoulder with a reassuring tone. You pretend not to notice me. You turn immediately when I call back. Not for the first time, I curse these helmets. I desperately want to know what you're thinking. Washington and York pass you by. δέλτα acknowledges ρώ as I speak. You're going on your first mission. I know the dangers and heartbreak of those tests, those wars, those simulations by now. What to say? Nothing more than good luck. You accept it all the same. χι whispers confirmation of your smile in my head. Carolina leads your team. In my sights, you're flanked by two of the best. In my mind, I remember routine. I remember laughing, laughing, laughing into twilight hours with you at a bistro. I jokingly call out. Don't die. You smile.

 

 

 

It's all too suddenly I realize this moment in time may never happen again.

 

 

Don't die. This time, and every time after, I'm serious.


End file.
